The Art of Pain
by Ta'er Sagheer
Summary: Fetish!fic. PWP.  Warnings for: masochistic!Alvie. Might squick some people out.


**A/N**_: Enjoy! Reads best at 1/2. If I've portrayed it wrong, however, and you are actually a practicer yourself, please respond. I'd love to hear how it really works. :]  
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House looks up from his book, his eyes locking onto the pack of cigarettes Alvie has tossed onto his lap. He regards it with suspicion as Alvie crawls up onto the bed beside him, grinning madly.

"Again?" He asks.

"Please?" Alvie pleads. "I'd do it for you."

"I wouldn't ask you to do it in the first place," House replies, pushing Alvie's hand out of his face. He shuts the book and lean over to set it on the nightstand, and then pulls himself into a sitting position. Beside him, Alvie is excitedly tearing away at the plastic wrapper, ignoring his disapproving glares and tossing it onto the floor.

Alvie dangles the cigarette pack in front of House's face. "Come on."

House groans inwardly and snatches them out of Alvie's hand. He opens the top and taps one out, setting it between his lips. He can't help but smirk, watching Alvie grin and wiggle around anxiously.

He doesn't have a lighter, and he's about to say so when Alvie suddenly produces one. House's eyes flicker from the flame to Alvie's face as he warily leans in, inhaling deeply. He wishes he were smoking a cigar instead. The cigarette always feels strange in his hand, too small, too light, but he's getting used to the flavor.

Alvie settles in next to him, propped up with two extra pillows, watching the smoke leave his lungs in something close to awe.

House shakes his head slightly and smirks. He leans in, blowing smoke directly into Alvie's quickly flushing face.

"You're weird, you know that?" he asks.

Alvie nods, dropping his hand to the outside of his boxers. His other hand wraps around the back of House's neck, pulling him in, pressing his lips against House's several times; quick little kisses that roam down the side of his jaw and to his collarbone.

He murmurs softly, "You'd be bored without me, old man."

House breaks the kiss, running his hand across Alvie's chest gently, feeling his fingers bump against his ribs, and tweaks his nipples with rough, calloused fingers. Alvie lets loose a moan, his hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers.

Squirming, Alvie locks his hand around the back of House's head, awkwardly tugging him down. House responds by placing light kisses down his stomach, holding the cigarette off to the side as he does. He likes the way Alvie trembles beneath his lips, but what he likes even more are the wanting, desperate groans that escape him as he licks and sucks the outline of Alvie's cock through the fabric.

Listening to Alvie's heavy breathing, House rolls away, repositioning himself at the foot of the bed. All the moving around bothers his leg, but he knows it will be worth it in the end. Slowly and carefully, under Alvie's heated gaze, he guides the cigarette butt to the soles of his feet.

Seconds before the hot ash makes contact with his flesh, Alvie pushes his boxers down, wrapping his hand around the base of his semi hard cock. He yelps the first time, and then cries out louder the second, stroking himself harder and faster, using his precome as lubricant. House moves upwards again, his own erection pressing against Alvie's leg. He drags the growing gray ash over certain areas of Alvie's midsection, every time the slowly cooling ash makes contact with his flesh, his breathing hitches and he moans softly.

House pauses, hovering above Alvie's cock, blowing cool air onto the tip, and then carefully proceeds to lightly press the butt of the cigarette into the flesh under one of Alvie's nipples. The cries turn more desperate every time; his body begins to tremble violently. He strokes faster. He's already so close, House thinks, eyeing the scars littering his torso, some pink and faded, others still fresh from their last session.

House slides back up with a quiet grunt, and presses his lips against Alvie's, effectively silencing him, if only for a second. House's heart pounds in his chest as he watches Alvie's eyes close, the kiss deepening. He nudges Alvie's legs open with his hand, careful to avoid any unnecessary burns, and gently trails his fingertips over Alvie's inner thigh. He touches the ash to his inner thigh in quick, light movements, making Alvie twitch and yelp. Then, without warning, he lightly presses the cigarette against Alvie's scrotum for just a second. It's like an electric shock; Alvie breaks the kiss with a loud scream, gripping House's arm so hard his nails dig into flesh. His entire body stiffens and then convulses. His other hand, still wrapped around his cock, gives one final squeeze, and he spills himself onto his hand and stomach.

They stay still for several moments, both too exhausted to move. Eventually Alvie rolls onto his back, wiping his hand on the sheets. The cigarette is burnt to the filter now, it's useless. House disposes of if, and then rests beside Alvie, admiring his handiwork. Alvie's chest still heaves, his breathing fickle but already noticeably slowing. There are several circular red marks dotting his torso, but the new ones definitely stand out.

"You have some serious issues," House tells him again.

Alvie looks over and smiles lazily, rolling onto his side. He rests a hand on House's stomach and plays with the edge of his shirt. He draws tiny circles on the outside of House's shirt, and then slides his sweat pants down, revealing cock, twitching in anticipation.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with issues," he says with a smirk, closing his hand around House's cock. He gives it a few good tugs, and then leans over it, a string of saliva coating the head. House flinches slightly, his hand instinctively going to the back of Alvie's head.

Alvie strokes him from base to tip, and then licks along the length, his tongue exploring every vein and bulge. House bites his lip, tightly gripping Alvie's short hair.

"How'my doin', doc?" Alvie asks, grinning mischievously.

"Be quiet," he murmurs, thrusting his hips slightly.

House grunts, taking hold of his cock and slapping it gently against the side Alvie's face. He rubs his thumb along Alvie's jaw line and then slides it into his mouth, eyes transfixed as he strokes himself. Seconds later Alvie is taking him deep into his throat, expertly fondling his scrotum.

House inhales deeply, the taste of menthol still fresh on his lips. His breathing becomes quick and shallow. He arches his back, his body shuddering. As if on cue, Alvie begins to pump faster, hand and mouth working together, the other paying rapt attention to his scrotum.

A strangled cry escapes him suddenly; he shoves Alvie's head down onto his cock as far as it will go, his hips thrusting and body jerking intensely. He gasps loudly, feeling Alvie's grip tighten on his thigh. Alvie pulls away a moment later, coughing and sputtering, but otherwise fine. House watches him smirk through the haze, but then everything goes black.

House lies still, trying to steady his breath. His heart feels like it might just explode. He's still twitching when he realizes that Alvie has curled up beside him, sliding a hand up under his shirt to play with what little chest hair he has. He groans and drapes an arm over his eyes, stretching slightly. It doesn't take much to kick the sweat pants off with his good leg, considering how far they rode down.

"You okay?" Alvie asks after a moment.

Holding back a sigh, his arm drops from his eyes, and he opens them tiredly.

"You're the one with a hole in your ball sack," he grumpily replies, using the sheet to wipe up anything Alvie missed. He sits up and hangs his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing a pair of pants from the floor. He grimaces as he stands, still a bit light headed, and zips them up. When he's fully clothed, he relaxes back into the bed, reaching for his book.

Alvie watches in disbelief.

"Are you serious? I just gave you a mind blowing blowjob, and you want to read."

House makes it look as though he's considering Alvie's words, and then reports, "But it's a really good book."

"You know what? Ouch. That really hurts."

"Oh, grow a pair," House quips.

Alvie slides off the bed angrily, pulling his boxers back up. He cringes suddenly, readjusting the crotch. The aftermath is the reason House doesn't always look forward to these little burning sessions. Once the adrenaline wears off, there's the six-ish weeks of healing time in which Alvie whines like he's never whined before. It's never enjoyable, and yet he always begs for more.

House rolls his eyes, peering over the edge of his reading glasses.

"Would you stop throwing a hissy fit if I told you the book I'm reading is about Kama Sutra?" he asks, gauging Alvie's response.

Alvie pauses, a goofy grin spreading across his face, despite the pain he's obviously in.

"Really?" he says, sitting down carefully on the bed, inching closer.

"No," House admits, noticing for the first time the fingernail marks in his arm. "But we could buy one."

"Can I pick the first position?" Alvie asks.

"As long as you don't try to force my feet behind my head or twist me into a pretzel." He pauses, nodding his head to the burn mark under his nipple. "You should really take care of that. Go put a cold washcloth on it. Looks like it's going to blister."

Alvie looks down at himself and shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"There's some aloe-gel in the bathroom."

He winces again and re-readjusts the crotch of his boxers. "Yeah, I'm more concerned about my balls."

House returns the shrug. "If you could handle getting off like a normal person, you wouldn't have that problem."

"Yeah, yeah," Alvie mutters, pulling a shirt on. He flinches slightly, repositioning the shirt. "I'm gonna go run my balls under some water and look that book up online." 


End file.
